


Of Full Moons and New

by I_Shouldnt_Be_Here



Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Also plot reasons, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Aman is trans/non-binary/genderfluid because why not, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy late Halloween, Horror, I will blame ONE group chat for this, Multi, Plot Twists, Romance, Rusalka is a Russian water spirit, Rusalka!Aman, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, The horror is very subtle, This is a late Halloween gift, Thriller, Werewolf!Kartik, none of that jumpscare/fake blood stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here
Summary: Kartik is a photosensitive werewolf. Which means he can't look at bright lights directly. The situation gets complicated when he can't even look at the light of the moon, the life blood of all werewolves. Luckily, he stumbles upon the reflection of the moon on a Rusalka's lake.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	Of Full Moons and New

**Author's Note:**

> Boo!  
> Now go read :)

**_October 31 st, 2019, new moon._ **

The sky was dark, with a cloudless new moon night. It looked as if an inescapable ceiling of navy-blue murk oppressed upon the human world the moment since the sun set. There were no orange sunsets, the sun went off and the navy sky appeared with the flick of a switch.

The lake was placid, the still air seemingly not bothering to disturb its skin. The purple clutches of the sky were too far away, unless you were caught in their grip. The yellow marigold flowers on the banks of the lake appeared dead brown.

Meanwhile, a human was trapped in the same clutches of dense purple irrationality. The songs of the rusalka had this effect.

The person walked in semicircles of increasing radius, to the tune of the rusalka’s song. It had no words, but the haunting melody put the meaning across better than any words could.

_The haunting song pierced my ears, but I couldn’t find out where it was coming from, as if the source was spinning in slow circles above my head. I remember walking in circles until my feet gave out at the edge of the lake. The images of my lover haunted me, in various states of undress, poised either to kiss the life out of my lips or to slit my throat with a knife behind their back. Snatches of black lace and grey tweed crossed my mind, until I couldn’t take it anymore. My head lolled, giving in to these images._

_I saw the shiny black surface of the lake._

_The grass swayed with my feet until I crashed on the edge of the lake. I don’t know what brought me here. I feel walls of still, cold air whipping against my face as I run in zig zag paths._

_My ankles gave way and I sat down on the bank, precariously close to the water’s edge. I caught my breath, and a deluge of memories assaulted every one of my senses._

_The smell of woodsmoke and roses, as they embraced me for the first time, the smell growing headier as they bent down to kiss my neck. Warm cups of coffee shared on cold winter nights. Them going down on one knee to propose. Me standing up and taking a step forward to accept the ring…_

_Only to plunge into deep, icy cold water._

_I remembered with icy cold clarity._

_I remembered that they did not smell of either woodsmoke or roses._

The rusalka continued their song until the human fell down in to the water. Playing with their victim’s minds was their favourite trick. They knew that if they bent downward to look at their face in the lake, it would be twisted into the shape of the drowned person’s lover. Sometimes it was the pouty red lips of a boy, the sharp jaw of a girl or the occasional unrecognisable face of a non-binary person.

They made tentacles of water creep into the person’s eyes and throat, the water fighting back as they struggled against it for the first valiant thirty seconds. Cheeks puffed as a breath was held when the futile struggle was realised.

The blackout stage had just started, and the rusalka could see the person calming down, long hair beginning to rest in a flat sheet just underneath the water surface.

Aman thought they saw a dark hulking figure across the far edge of the lake. Their feet were almost about to slip off the high perch nestled inside a tree. The dark shoulders hunched and it seemed like the legs were skirting the edge of the lake for a leisurely stroll. Aman got distracted. They saw flailing arms and a head rising up from the water in revolt, hair flattening against the skull and against the shoulders, in a different direction. Their attention was brought back to the surface of the lake by that sudden movement, and the water-tentacles returned with renewed force for the _coup de grâce_.

_I felt the water loosening around me. My vision was blackening inward, starting from the edges but now I felt suddenly alive. The icy, bone-chilling water did not matter anymore, as long as I could hurl myself onto the shore. My arm shot outward, clawing in the general direction of the bank. I clawed once, twice and then a final time before the water filled my eyes and throat again._

_The last thing I remember was my lover leaving our shared home, in the wake of our countless, toxic arguments. My face felt stone cold, and my vision darkened irreversibly._

Aman stared at the blue lips and the blue forehead as the head sunk below the surface of the water. Then, their hands felt their face, it was a thin, long oval shape. Their shoulders were covered with black hair trailing from the skull, straight as a horse’s tail.

So that’s what the victim’s lover looked like.

…

**_December 15 th, 2019, full moon._ **

****

Kartik struggled his way to the calendar, tinted glasses pitching off the nose bridge, his numb arms and legs were blocks of stone against his uncooperative muscles.

Today was a full moon. The agony of transformation had barely started. The bundle of intestines in his stomach only grew heavier as he obsessively noticed sunset and moonrise through the day, in fifteen-minute intervals. It was a quarter past two, the hour when the moon was at its most brilliant.

Outside, the moon was waiting to prowl upon Kartik, in its vicious beauty. Kartik wondered about the effectiveness of these flimsy tinted glasses against the sharp, hypnotising light of the moon. His eyes were extremely photosensitive for a week preceding a full moon. The curtains were thick, black. Blinds sliced sunlight (and moonlight) into palatable rectangular portions.

He felt his insides churning, his arms and legs swelling, lengthening into something beast-like.

The small town’s outskirts were completely dark at this hour, popularly known as ‘the witching hour’. This darkness was comfortable, especially when even pale white moonlight made tears sting at the corners of his sensitive eyes.

He busted the front door open to step into the night. Everything appeared just a little uncanny. The outlines of barren trees distorted, stretched into the arms and hands of green-veined witches. If Kartik wasn’t a part of the supernatural himself, he wouldn’t have believed the _unbelievability_ of full moon nights, especially at the end of a year.

His shoulders broadened, thus he had to hulk downward to accommodate the additional heft of wiry muscle. Bent downward, he missed the ominous red shade of the moon, echoed by the darkest crimson shade in the sky.

He knew if he looked up, he would be stung by the light of the moon so he, in a rare moment of clarity amidst the transformational pain and numbness, sought for the lake with the marigolds on its shore.

Kartik was numb to the blood red skies and witch’s-hands-trees because of the thick sunglasses carefully balanced upon the broad (turning somewhat hairy) nose.

He walked in semicircles of increasing diameter, scarily reminiscent to the walk of victims of creatures more malicious than himself. Little did he know that he would come to know of such a creature in the very near future.

The grass, shaped like spiny brown fingers growing off the land thickened as he reached closer to the lake’s edge. His teeth grew sharper, jaws changing shape to accommodate, skull aching with tight cords of pain snared across the forehead. The moon’s wordless call became stronger, stronger until he found the marigolds. An old-time ditty about the moon drummed on his forehead, he did it whenever the pain got unbearable.

_Come o come to the moonlight’s call,_

_Were-children and are-children, all_

_Wolves prowl, so do creatures of the night_

_Are-children, fearing death, hold your mothers tight._

_Come o come to the moonlight’s call_

_Come o come…_

Kartik focused on the double meaning in ‘were-children’, while pain splintered his skull. He crashed down, right beside a marigold bush. Stars appeared behind his eyes due to the force of the fall.

He looked at the moon on the surface of the lake through the stars in his eyes.

Aman was carefully perched upon the high tree, when they noticed the shapeshifter.

The metamorphosis was almost complete. Aman could see the amber, glowing eyes that appeared at the end of transformation. The jaw was slightly ajar, sharp teeth distanced from the ruddy lips that were about to make ruby red cuts on the mouth if not separated.

The sunglasses looked ridiculous.

Aman did not know that a werewolf lived nearby. The current one seemed to be in the throes of indescribable pain, dog-like whining sounds slithering skyward from his throat.

Then suddenly, they caught their own reflection in the surface of the lake. It was their own face, which they saw hundreds of times alone, but rarely so in the company (was a victim’s soon-to-be-dead presence ‘company’ for real?) of someone else.

 _This werewolf never had a lover before_. Aman focused on their _own_ large, melancholy brown eyes.

The werewolf twisted in pain. Aman wondered why he wasn’t looking at the moon directly. Aman also noticed that the pain seemed to flare up, suggested by his twitching shoulders, when the reflection of the moon wavered on the surface of the water. There had to be some connection there.

Aman concentrated upon the surface of the water. Usually they made it alive, tentacled and unstable, to drown other people, but this time they had to make the surface flat. Flat and dead to reflect the moon.

Soon enough, the water obeyed them, ripples disappearing as if a hand smoothed over them like on a wrinkled bedsheet. The moon un-distorted into a perfect circle. The reflection was comfortable enough for Kartik’s sensitive eyes to look at. He stared _downward_ at the moon and felt the magnetism of the moon fade from his body.

Kartik thought he saw some movement high up, in the corner of his eye. The pain had reduced enough for him to take his sunglasses off.

The conversion was complete, but he still was afraid to look high up at the moon. He carefully glanced upward, following the smooth, ghostly pale trunk of a eucalyptus tree, until he saw wiry brown legs perched upon a high branch. The face was hidden by a fringe of long, silky brown hair.

“Who are you?” Hr wanted to ask, but his voice was reduced to an animalistic growl. He knew he wouldn’t be able to talk until sunrise.

An aborted growl ripped from the werewolf’s throat, which startled Aman. It was accompanied by frantic hand gestures.

Aman saw the werewolf’s amber eyes through sunglasses, gazing directly into their own.

An electric jolt travelled through their body.

Kartik saw the large, melancholy eyes shift with comprehension after his hand gestures. He was sure that the creature sitting on the top of the tree wasn’t any run-of-the-mill nature spirit. The aura surrounding them was too dark. But even then, Kartik felt safe enough to remove his sunglasses. He carefully set them on the bank beside him. The night was dark enough and the reflection of the moon was dull enough for his eyes to not sting.

The skin was a deep brown, but strangely slimy on the surface, as if the water they lived near never left their body at all. The damp brown hair looked strangely inviting, and Kartik wanted to run his hands through its strands.

A wordless melody moved the plump lips of the spirit. The piercing tune hit Kartik’s ears, invoking specific words and short sentences in his head.

_Me. Rusalka. Name. Aman. You?_

Kartik was stunned for a second. It felt as if someone invaded your head and pulled out specific words and brought them to the forefront of your memory. It felt like an _inside_ dental extraction. The melody lilted upward in a high note to make the ‘you’ into a question. Kartik figured they were asking him about himself.

He tried to gesture that he couldn’t talk while in this state. He looked around, dug in his pockets. His paw-like hands left him clumsy. The spirit was probably laughing at him fumbling in his pockets.

He found a small pocket knife. He made scratches on the ground to form the letters K-A-R-T-I-K.

_Can’t see._

The spirit replied. Kartik still hadn’t gotten very much used to them invading his mind. He only hoped all of his memories and thoughts weren’t visible to the spirit, which apparently was called a ‘rusalka’. That would be embarrassing.

_Name is Aman._

The rusalka sang a few notes with firmness. Kartik blushed red with shame. Apparently, they _could_ see roughly what was going on in his head.

 _Their name is Aman._ His mind supplied. He wondered how he could communicate with Aman. He stood on the bank for a second, defeated. He looked upward; Aman seemed to be deep in thought.

_Wait, have idea._

They sang with conviction. Kartik noticed his side of the lake getting weirdly placid. A dead calm spread over the surface, even more solid than before. A gentle blue luminescence spread just under the surface of the water.

_Now, touch water._

Kartik was too shocked not to heed to their orders. He touched the surface. It was hard as glass. He could see a fish or two swimming just beneath the hard-blue glow. Kartik’s face had pure amazement written over it.

_Write._

Kartik scratched at the water surface. His knife barely made a dent on the glassy skin of the lake. Now it was his turn to solve the rest of the problem.

He wracked his head for a long while, he needed something liquid that would show up on the blue surface.

Then suddenly he caught a glimpse of his arm. He sliced an inch below the wrist, to draw blood. He could see the cut healing already in the next few seconds.

The red blood showed up black against the blue glow of the surface.

I, KARTIK

WEREWOLF

LIV NEAR

FULL MOON NITE HAD 2 TRNSFRM

He had to make multiple cuts on his arm to get the message across. It really was a miracle that werewolves healed very fast. He couldn’t care less for the spelling.

A contemplative look passed over Aman’s face as he took in the information.

_I know sign language. Will teach. Can’t have you bleeding every time._

Kartik let out a smile from the corner of his mouth, which exposed a sharp canine. This meant that they kept the possibility open for future meetings.

OK

HOW DO V START

_Why the sunglasses?_ The melody this time wasn’t gloomy. It curled around Kartik’s ears delightfully, filled with notes of humour.

They made their way slowly through a conversation. Kartik didn’t even feel any sort of pain from the cuts in his forearm.

…

**_April 30 th, 2020, new moon._ **

****

It was an exceptionally dark new moon night in the middle of summer. You could hardly see a metre in front of you if you weren’t a supernatural creature. Earlier Aman used to feel very calm on nights like these, where not a single soul was alive and they could pretend they were the only entity on the planet that mattered. But now, their nights were occupied by an occasional wolf-visitor, who dropped by a couple times every week to learn sign language of all things.

Kartik. The name evoked strong feelings in them. Strong tides of ancient feelings stirred in their chest. Feelings whose existence was long forgotten after their lover left them.

A hint of love was there, but Aman grew to mistrust it. After all they knew best that they manipulated their victims into drowning by using this very same emotion.

But also, there was friendship, there was a small hint of laughter, and there was a tiny smattering of pure joy. Aman knew that even if Kartik didn’t reciprocate their feelings of misplaced love (they didn’t trust _themselves_ with that emotion yet) they would be equally glad if he obliged to offer them his friendship.

You could call it a friendship, wouldn’t you?

Kartik visited them in wolf form only. They didn’t think too deeply about the reasons, but one day he had mentioned offhand (in broken signage, scribbling the big words on the lake surface with blood) that him not being able to speak while in wolf form somehow made him more dedicated (‘DEDCATD’ on the blue lake surface) to learning sign language.

Aman thought that Kartik simply felt shy. A stray thought of soft, blushing pink cheeks, possibly belonging to Kartik entered their mind. They pushed the thought away when their own face started to redden a little with shame.

A rustling of marigold bushes interrupted their reverie.

They could make out with their senses that there was certainly a supernatural entity on the lakeside. They hoped dearly it was Kartik. Aman made the lakeside glow blue.

More rustling was heard, and a man with his back turned appeared in the blue glow. Aman was terrified for a second that they had given their identity away to an actual human. This was impossible. Their senses could never go wrong.

So, they began to sing.

_Kartik? Human form?_

They sang tentatively. The shoulders, the tall frame, narrow hips and long, graceful arms _entranced_ them. They probably shouldn’t have looked, but their eyes couldn’t help glancing at the shapely butt hidden behind well-fit jeans. Ah well, they weren’t a saint.

“Yes. It’s me, Kartik.” He still turned his back towards them. Aman felt a little sad, but they wouldn’t appear in front of Kartik if he was uncomfortable showing his face.

His voice, his _human_ voice shocked Aman the most. It was a very sweet, melodious baritone, that made their scalp tingle pleasantly. Aman closed their eyes for a second and sighed. With this, the blue glow on the lakeside wavered.

_Why face hidden? Turn…_

Aman tried a last time.

“I’m not comfortable showing my human face to you. Please get rid of that blue glow and I’ll sit by the lakeside when its completely dark.”

_Wait, I’ll sit beside. Dark. Can’t use signs. Sit closer so won’t have to sing louder._

Aman could not see it, but Kartik blushed at the prospect of sitting near Aman, entertaining the possibility of a brown arm brushing against his, wrists cold with lake-water.

And somehow, Kartik got a feeling that maybe Aman was blushing a little bit too from their notes which skipped bashfully like dewdrops off blades of grass.

_Why here? With me?_

Aman got to the point directly. Kartik paused for a long while, debating whether to tell Aman the truth. After engaging in a mental tussle with the matter at hand, the truth simply spilled out of his lips.

“I was so lonely, goddammit! And it _had_ to be on the day of the new moon when I can’t transform at all…”

Aman felt a deep surge of _fondness._ Kartik seemed to genuinely enjoy their company, enough to admit feeling loneliness without it. Their corners of their lips stretched, into a smile. Before Kartik arrived, Aman could not remember the last time they had smiled, that too _without_ malice.

But, with Kartik, smiling had become an easy habit, their cheeks often rang with a hollow pain whenever Kartik was around him for long. Aman stared upward at the opaque, black, switched-off-television sky.

_Growling, signing, words on lake. You couldn’t say much. You so talkative._

Aman sang, matter of fact. Aman was afraid that he had made light of Kartik’s confession, but he need not have worried.

Kartik let out a laugh, tinkling and bubbling like a hidden creek in a dark forest. Aman wondered, how many of Kartik’s _human_ quirks they still had to discover. Aman’s mental checklist of Kartik’s _wolf_ quirks was interrupted by another confession.

“Well, you could say that. I am rather talkative…But yes, now that I have my voice, there’s so much I want to know about you…”

Aman was a little startled. Their eyes widened, and Kartik’s arm brushed against theirs. Pleasant goosebumps travelled along the length of both arms in question.

_What? I forgot more than humans know in their whole lives._

Aman sang, metaphor turning a little dramatic to ignore the goosebumps.

“Oof no need to be so poetic. Hmm, I’ve always wanted to know, how did you learn sign language?” Kartik asked. Aman hesitated for a while. It was a long story.

_Internet._

“Whoa how?” Kartik’s face was twisted in incredulity, Aman could not catch it because of the darkness.

_Local library. Shape shifting. Computers. Learning. Though faster than humans._

“What? How did you suddenly decide to learn sign language?” Kartik had to take a step back at the image of a shapeshifted rusalka walking into a public library.

_Once drowned someone who made no sound._

“Oh…”

A silence spread over Kartik’s words. Aman’s singing turned mournful, supplementing the inky darkness of the night. Kartik could sense the shape of Aman, he was pretty sure they could too, but he couldn’t _see_ anything.

The silence turned a little uncomfortable.

“So, is it true? You drown a human every new moon?” Kartik tried to break the silence with a question.

_No. Three or four every year. Like you. You don’t kill every full moon._

Clarity dawned over Kartik and he craned his neck upward to gaze into the sky. Unlike the previous one, this silence was comfortable.

“I sometimes wonder, why are we even here? In the middle of nowhere. You, a Russian spirit, me a European creature, both of us with weirdly Indian sounding names… So much confusion, I can’t understand. Do you know? Since you’re much older than I am…” Kartik spoke, wondrous words erupting from lips directed to the sky.

_Internet. Last thirty years, folklores of the world in flux. Everyone knows all the stories._

Both of them laughed. Only Kartik’s laugh could be heard in the silence.

He focused in the general direction of the marigold bushes, which were holy in some places, while death in others.

…

**_August 18 th, 2020, full moon._ **

****

Aman shook their head after a series of growling noises. They had zoned out. Today was a full moon. They immediately stabilised the water with their powers.

Aman heard his frantic growls before they saw him. Without surprise, Kartik could be seen at the lakeside with his sunglasses. He seemed really aggressive today, usually the pain of transformation left him too immobile to do anything else.

Then they realised, the transformation was complete.

Kartik was plodding along the lakeside with hunched shoulders and his eyes shining a wild yellow. The glow was visible through his sunglasses.

Kartik kicked at the ground with his feet and uprooted a few marigold bushes. Aman had rarely seen him so aggressive. He scratched at the trunk of Aman’s eucalyptus with his sharp claws.

Aman let out a yelp of pain. Their legs burned as if someone had scratched them.

Another fact he had forgotten, the eucalyptus tree was tied to their life force.

Aman thought of ways of calming Kartik down while observing him carefully.

There was blood on his jaws, trailing down his neck.

Today he had killed someone.

_Stop. I’m hurting._

Aman sang frantically, hoping that the notes would reach him. They confusing Kartik, slowing him down, but he was still clawing at the tree and kicking into the ground with renewed ferocity. A couple of marigold bushes were uprooted, black soil scattering into the night.

_Stop. I’m hurting._

Aman a few times more, but they knew that singing was futile.

He did not want to do that, but he feared that Kartik would hurt them or himself if they didn’t.

They summoned their powers and made the water dance. Tendrils of water erupted from the surface to surround Kartik.

Aman let out a tired sigh and pushed Kartik into the water. It had been a while since they used their powers against someone stronger than an average human.

The last thing they noticed were deep scratches on the eucalyptus tree, edged with blood, _human_ blood.

The blood of Kartik’s victim.

Aman’s reverie was interrupted by a gasp, as Kartik rose to the surface of the water. They laughed a little at the image of Kartik looking like a dog gone for a bath.

Kartik flailed about on the surface of the water and swam to the shore after struggling against the water. Aman noticed that there was a different aura about him, a little less bloodthirst, and his eyes didn’t have the feral look as they did before.

Even thought the moonlight was more than sufficient, they made the lakeside glow blue to glance at Kartik properly.

Kartik was soaking wet. He was signing something.

**Thank you. Needed it. Today out of control.**

Kartik shivered through the signs.

Aman didn’t know what to feel about that. It seemed like aggression put Kartik out of his mind, and he was glad to be back again.

Aman felt sorry at seeing Kartik shiver. They carefully made their way to the lakeside, beside Kartik. Aman was still a little afraid of Kartik.

Kartik looked at them with surprise as Aman extended a hand slowly towards his shoulder. Was, was Aman about to touch it?

He was amazed, at the water rushing out of his fur and also at Aman’s hand touching him.

It was warmer than what he had imagined it to be.

Aman laid down with their back skyward with a sigh, tired by overuse of powers.

Kartik laid down beside them after taking off his sunglasses. He was dry and warm. He took a few deep breaths as he gazed at the sky, positioned away from the light of the moon, still wearing his sunglasses. He felt the grass on the back of his skull grounding him.

He took a few deep breaths, his mouth tasted of metal and the claws were stained red.

He needed a distraction, otherwise the guilt would eat him alive. He sat up straight, prompting Aman to sit up beside him.

Aman wondered what made Kartik sit up again. Worry lines etched upon their face as Kartik turned towards them, amber eyes glowing a little less yellow.

 _Tell me. Your story._ He signed. Their eyes widened at the offhand request. Through they were over a hundred years old, nobody asked them this question.

_Long story. Don’t know if you will be able to understand all the signs._

_I don’t mind. I’ll try._ He replied.

Aman looked at his face, which had turned incredibly soft in the moonlight. The face seemed to say, ‘I do not understand, but I’ll listen anyway’.

Then Aman realised, this catharsis, this expulsion of their story had been over hundred years in the making.

If not now, then it would not happen ever.

  
Kartik watched a myriad of emotions play hesitantly over Aman’s face. Doubt, was the main character. Then it got replaced by certainty.

Aman began signing slowly, hands forming graceful shapes. Kartik struggled with the words, but was afraid to interrupt Aman in case the flow broke irreversibly.

Aman pre-empting Kartik’s struggle, sang the big words.

_This story is over a hundred years old, when I was known by a different name. I have forgotten the exact shape of my lover’s face. He was a tall, graceful young man. I still remember the day we met. He was loitering on the lakeside. This very same lakeside and I was picking fruits from the apple trees. The trees are long gone now, the roots lie dead under the road you travel to come to this lake._

_I caught a glimpse at his face, his lips twisting into a circle after seeing mine. People don’t believe in this concept now, but it was love at first sight. I was glad that my long hair was tied back, so I could gaze at him._

Aman blushed a little.

_He asked me for an apple, and I remember him smelling of woodsmoke and a hint of roses. Our hands brushed together, and we promised to meet again._

_We used to meet in secret, under moonlit riverbanks and on windowsills late at night. We kissed for the first time under an apple tree, the very same place I met him._

_A whole year passed, and for both of us it seemed like all the months were springtime._

_Then, a few months after that beautiful, he started keeping me at an arm’s distance. He began to ignore me, telling he was about to marry a girl, not someone ‘caught in between’ like me. I hated that. I hated that I became just three words for him. He couldn’t love me for me, even after spending more than a year by my side._

_Jealousy started growing in my heart. I lived my days in profound misery. His date of marriage came near. I didn’t care enough to see the girl’s face._

_Then, the night before his wedding, he appeared before me, pleading for my hand in the most insincere way. I snubbed him, and I saw him walking down the aisle from afar, as cold comfort._

_Then, that night, the poison in my heart was getting too much to bear. My usual feelings of melancholy magnified, brought on by me living since childhood, shunned by society, alone with my grandmother who passed away when I was sixteen. Also, his love made it worse._

_The day after his wedding, I jumped into this lake._

Aman took a deep breath after letting their story out. Kartik’s gaze travelled to their face from their hands. The eyes were round, and filled with trepidation. Kartik skipped his glance over them for only a second for the fear that he might be caught in them forever.

_What name were you known as before?_ He signed.

_Does it matter? I chose ‘Aman’. ‘Aman’ is good for me._

Kartik realised, it did not matter at all. Aman was Aman, regardless of whatever name they were known by a hundred years ago. And Kartik would see them as ‘Aman’ only.

_No, I am not ‘caught in between’._ Aman signed, getting a little defensive.

 _No, you are ‘you’. Always have been._ Kartik replied.

Tears shone in the corners of both of their eyes.

Aman’s eyes appeared ethereal in the light of the moon. Kartik knew that even if they couldn’t say every little thing they wanted to, their expressive eyes always said those words.

Kartik almost forgot that he had killed someone a few hours ago, in the light of those eyes.

Kartik thought that it was time to repay Aman’s trust and confidence with his own.

_Will show you my human face some time. Wait for me on a new moon night._

…

**_October 31 st, 2020, new moon._ **

****

They had drowned someone a month ago, so the urge went unnoticed this time. Aman sat down on the eucalyptus branch, bored and excited at the same time.

****

Aman’s heart raced whenever it was a new moon night, after Kartik’s promise that he would show them his human face some months ago. After that confession, he never visited them on a new moon.

Aman’s heart thumped fiercely in their chest when the familiar rustling of marigold bushes was heard. A hand was immediately placed over the chest to calm their racing heart.

_You?_ They sang with trepidation.

“Yes, it’s me, Kartik.” The melodious voice held equal sway over Aman even if they heard it after a long time. Maybe even more so.

Aman climbed down from the tree excitedly and sat down beside Kartik at the lakeside. Both of them began a slow conversion, the pace barely masking the excitement on their faces and in their voices.

_Is today the night?_

“Yes, seems like it. I wasn’t too confident about today either…” Kartik shrugged.

_Don’t worry. Sure you’re handsome._

Kartik blushed. Aman called him ‘handsome’!

“Okay a few rules. Don’t turn on your blue glow. I have a flashlight with me, I’ll show you my face sometime later. For now, let’s sit back and talk.” Aman could hear the smile in his voice.

Both of them went on talking for a long while, Kartik taking the conversation to the weirdest tangents. Aman flirted with Kartik a few times, but he didn’t seem to get the hint. He pushed the attempts off with bad jokes and impromptu poetry.

Kartik was midway through a conversation about ginger cats, when Aman decided to ask him. They couldn’t put up with more tangential, indirect flirting anymore. Although, they would not force themselves upon Kartik if he said no. He was too precious a friend to lose.

_Kiss you?_

Kartik’s eyes blew wide. And his lips parted. What prompted this sudden turn? He was speechless for a whole minute. He didn’t know that his affections would be reciprocated. That too so suddenly in the middle of animated conversation.

He thought for a while about Aman’s notes. There was something different in them, some sounds swooped down and rushed upward and yet others made his scalp tingle with pleasant sensations.

Then he realised, Aman was singing for him, in a _romantic_ sense.

This revelation blew his mind. They liked him back!

He ran his finger up Aman’s arm, from the wrist, to the elbow, finally settling to clutch their shoulder tenderly. Aman shivered.

Kartik snuggled into Aman’s neck to kiss under their left ear.

“Turn around.” His voice rasped.

Aman closed their eyes and followed Kartik’s voice.

Kartik crashed his lips against Aman’s, letting out a sigh. The moment he had played along countless times in his head was occurring in real life, or, at least however real new moon nights were.

Kartik kissed Aman’s soft, plump, angular lips, sucking on them with unholy sounds he wasn’t too proud of. Aman kissed him back fiercely, lips parting to make way for warm, wet tongues.

Aman moved from Kartik’s lips to his neck, marking that area red with their lips. Kartik moaned hard as Aman’s lips closed around his Adam’s apple.

They kissed for an eternity; hands wrapped around each other in curves which seemed impossible until the moment their lips met.

Aman let go of Kartik with a sigh. They would continue this sometime later.

“Ah, that felt really good.” Kartik replied, amazed. He’s had sex before many times, but nothing felt as intimate as sharing a kiss with someone who knew the deepest, darkest parts of you.

_Just good?_

“I’m obviously kidding. It was fucking amazing!” Kartik said triumphantly.

“Okay, I am ready now, _lover._ ” Kartik said fondly. He fumbled around to find the flashlight. When he did, he shone it above his face. At the same time, the lake lit up blue with the brightest intensity Aman was capable of.

Aman’s jaws parted.

The face, Kartik’s face looked young, yet a hundred years old.

_It was the face of their spurned lover._

…

**Author's Note:**

> I'll blame one long conversation on a group chat regarding Karman as supernatural entities. I don't know what happened next.  
> A Rusalka (plural: Rusalki) are Russian water spirits, associated with lakes and streams, usually female. They are said to be malicious spirits which drown people who come to their lakeside. They are said to form from the ghosts of lovers who died by suicide after getting spurned.
> 
> I listened to these songs on loop to write this  
> 1\. [ Katyi Rov, Parvaaz ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZQ8nu81mxo) The melancholy, gloomy sound is the perfect setting for this fic. The song's in Kashmiri.  
> [ Lyrics and translation ](https://www.instagram.com/p/B9_aa3GlE-s/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link)  
> 2\. Loveless, My Bloody Valentine (It's an album) It has a gloomy, fuzzy sound.
> 
> Marigolds are flowers which mean different things in different cultures. In Indian culture it is a very auspicious flower, used for almost all religious ceremonies, meanwhile in Mexico it is known as 'the flower of death'.
> 
> Because Aman is trans here, they were known by a different name in human form (basically their deadname). Aman chose the name for themselves, so the dead name does not matter. Names hold a very special meaning for trans people as often they choose a name for themselves, instead of being given one at birth.
> 
> 'Caught in between' is a popular expression applied to non-binary people, often used by cisgender people who have a poor understanding of gender identity. This is incorrect (or partially correct at best) because non-binary identity is not limited to being 'caught in between' a masculine-feminine scale. 
> 
> Well, how was the plot twist? Hehe, tell me in the comments. I hope you liked this spooky halloween fic!
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!  
> Have a good (spooky) day/night!  
> -Advaita


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